


The Sitting

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fanfiction, M/M, Rating: PG - Freeform, character: mirage, character: sunstreaker, genre: angst, genre: drama, genre: fluff, verse: g1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Mirage wants a series of portraits of himself, but he wasn’t bargaining for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sitting

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Characters:** Sunstreaker, Mirage  
>  **Warnings:** None
> 
> **Notes:** A prompt from gunmaxual. The request can be found **[here](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/191244.html?thread=3068172#t3068172) **.
> 
> **The Prompt:** _Sunstreaker gently investigating random Autobots, physically. Not sexually. Just like...an artist suddenly seeing them and having to take them in visually and from every angle, testing how they move and what they're made of._

“Stop fidgeting.”

Mirage sighed at the gruff command. “Is this truly necessary?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” Sunstreaker shot back. Then, “Does this move?”

Mirage squeaked as an armor panel on his back was tugged. “No! _Why_ are you molesting me?!”

“I’m not molesting you.” Words which were directly followed by two large, golden hands curling around the sides of Mirage’s aft. “Would you stand still? I’m trying to get an idea of proportion here!”

“That’s my _aft_!”

“Technically they’re your hips.” Sunstreaker’s hands moved up to his waist, then released as he paced in front of Mirage.

Primus, that was worse, now he could see Sunstreaker scowling as he inspected his plating. He felt every flaw in his well above average quality body. He was sure every nick and scratch he hadn’t managed to buff out perfectly was going to show in glaring relief on those portraits. Mirage almost called it all off for the sixth time that day.

“Why are you making that face?” Sunstreaker’s fingertips gripped and lifted Mirage’s chin. “Don’t frown like that. It pulls the corners of your optics down and makes you look kind of pathetic.”

Mirage gaped. Or would have, but his chin was still being held.

“Frag. Now you look like you’re going to cry. You’re not, are you? I can’t take that slag.”

Mirage blinked rapidly. “No. Of course not.” He was only a scarred, pathetic, disproportionate thing. Why would he cry? He wasn’t going to cry. Not one tear.

He _really_ wasn’t going to cry. Sunstreaker was the last mech to give sympathy, and the first to storm off in annoyance and disgust.

Sunstreaker tipped his face this way, then that. Up. Down. He hummed, his own perfect mouth twisting to the side as he considered. Mirage was sure he’d never felt so ugly before in his life.

Then almost as suddenly as the inspection had started, it ended. Sunstreaker abruptly let go and stepped back, picking up a datapad and stylus. “Ok, so you wanted three in the series, right?”

“Yes.” Primus help him.

“Poses?”

“Oh. Uh. What would you suggest?” Mirage winced as he asked it, glad Sunstreaker was still looking down. “I mean, to make them… flattering.”

Sunstreaker frowned, looking up at Mirage again. “Let me do some candid sketches. You’re way too stiff. I’ll do a handful and get back to you when I have time.”

He stared at Mirage, and as the silence stretched, an optics ridge arched. Mirage finally realized that he was being _asked_ , not told.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, that’s… that will be fine.”

Sunstreaker nodded, then pointed at the door with his stylus, attention already back on the datapad.

~ | ~

A couple months passed, leaving Mirage curious about the sketches Sunstreaker had promised him. He had actually forgotten about them during a rash of Decepticon attacks, then a few missions, but things had been quiet again the last few weeks. He was both curious and dreading getting to see them, and also didn’t want to test Sunstreaker’s temper.

It was then quite the surprise late one evening that Mirage opened his door to find Sunstreaker there, a larger-than-usual datapad in his hands.

“Got a few?”

Mirage blinked, then stepped back, gesturing Sunstreaker in. His spark picked up in tempo, energon chilling in his lines. Sunstreaker wasn’t the sort to lie, or even gentle his opinion. How awful did Mirage really look?

“Took you a while to relax,” Sunstreaker said, parking his aft on the small sofa Mirage had in his quarters. “I think I got some good ones here though.”

Mirage hesitated, but then carefully perched on the edge of the seat next to Sunstreaker. The datapad was angled toward him, and-

His optics welled up. ‘Sketch’ was a rather lame term for the gorgeous picture he was seeing It only lacked color. “I remember that battle.” It was the background. Those incredibly huge trees that Hound and Beachcomber had been fascinated by, and that the humans had been hysterical with fear over being destroyed by Insecticons. Mirage himself looked rather dynamic. His rifle was up, body in all the right lines he’d been drilled into when taught to hunt turbofoxes.

“It suck that bad?” Sunstreaker asked.

“What?”

A gold finger pointed at Mirage’s face. “You’re crying.”

Mirage hurriedly wiped his face. “No. It’s beautiful. Perfect.” He dared a glance at Sunstreaker and tipped his helm. Had the warrior’s face pinked up?

“There’s five. So just, you know. Slide through them. Tell me which three you want finished. Coloring’s easier, so it shouldn’t take as long.”

Knowing how _he_ hated to be stared at when feeling self-conscious, Mirage turned back to the portraits. There was one from the rec room with Mirage curled on the end of the couch while reading a datapad. There was another that had to have been at the rec room table with others, but only Mirage was shown. He was smiling, face open and bright in a way he’d never seen himself before. Another was in the training room. How Sunstreaker had captured the image, Mirage couldn’t fathom. He’d been responding to a joke Bluestreak had made, striking that ridiculous pose for only a moment, but there it was. Mirage, looking haughty, yet with an air of genuine amusement. He was racing Wheeljack in their alt modes. He was sitting on the ground, staring up at the stars, the sheer _longing_ on the half of his face…

It was impossible. How had Sunstreaker captured every instant, every emotion so perfectly?

They were all _perfect_.

“I’ll double the price if you do all five,” Mirage offered.

Sunstreaker was definitely pink in the face now, but Mirage held his gaze. “These are all gorgeous. I can’t pick. I don’t care how much more time you need to complete them, I’d like to buy all of them.”

“That’s a lot.”

“I have it.”

Sunstreaker snorted and took back the datapad. “Still a rich mech, huh?”

Mirage grinned. “Human currency is rather easy to come by if you don’t fuss over their gooey paws. We wash well after all.”

Sunstreaker shook his helm and headed for the door. “Gimme a few weeks. You want them as I finish them, or all at once?”

“Whatever is easiest. I’ll have the funds transferred to your account in the morning.”

Sunstreaker shrugged and left, and Mirage sank back into his sofa. He was going to have to reevaluate his feelings about Sunstreaker’s odd inspection and proportion checking.

Smiling, Mirage dared to return his mirror to the wall.

**Author's Note:**

> **([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) ) ******


End file.
